I was Getting Better
by ncalkins
Summary: "No, No, No," Tim Wright muttered as he crab walked backwards. His brown eyes stuck on the lanky, suit covered, faceless monstrosity that had haunted him most of his life. His sweaty right hand slipped on the wooden floor. He fell back and hit his head; despite, that he kept up his retreat. "I was getting better," Tim said. "I was getting better!" He yelled at the faceless man.


I was Getting Better

Ncalkins doesn't own Marble Hornets or creepypastas, AU, Warning: Suicide

Pages: 10

Words:2,792

"No, No, No," Tim Wright muttered as he crab walked backwards.

His brown eyes stuck on the lanky, suit covered, faceless monstrosity that had haunted him most of his life. His sweaty right hand slipped on the wooden floor. He fell back and hit his head; despite, that he kept up his retreat.

"I was getting better," Tim said.

"I was getting better!" He yelled at the faceless man.

He scrambled up and rushed to his room. He slammed the door behind him; though he knew it would do little good. He dragged the box he had hidden under his bed out. He pulled the warped cardboard flaps apart, and took out his pistol.

His skin crawled. A shadow loomed over him. He jerked around. Tim shot at the faceless monster; the monster stood before the door–unfazed. Tim's hands shook as the creature reached out for him.

"You're not getting me," Tim swore.

He pressed the cool metal of the barrel against his hot, sweaty, temple. He took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the creature as it approached. With a squeeze of the trigger, his memories flashed before his eyes (Living in the asylum, awkward teenage years, awkward adult years, Brian, Jay, Alex, dead, dead, dead), and then everything went dark.

#

"Where am I?"

"You finally up, Tim?"

Tim looked to his right. "Brian?"

Brian's lips twitched. "Hey, Tim."

"Shit," Tim whispered. "I'm dead."

Brian grimaced. "Not quite."

"What do you mean?" Tim asked as he sat up in the king sized bed. The brown comforter fell around his waist.

Brian pushed off of the gray wall and walked over to the bed.

"You did die, but we brought you back to life."

"What?" Tim squinted at Brian.

Brian ran his hand over the top of his head. (Tim noted Brian had a crew cut.) He pointed at his temple. "Feel right here."

Tim reached up, and grazed his temple with his fingertips, his eyes glued to Brian. The skin there was raised a small bit.

"How?" Tim whispered. He had shot himself.

"After you shot yourself, we healed you." Brian smiled." So, uh, don't move your head too fast. The bullet is still in there, and it'd be a bitch to revive you again."

"You died," Tim said.

"Yeah," Brian said.

"I killed you," Tim whispered. "I shoved you off the second story floor at the school."

"Yes and no," Brian said. "You did shove me off the second story, but you didn't kill me. I broke my leg, and Alex slit my throat."

Tim buried his head in his hands. "I could have stopped him sooner if I knew. I tried to talk to him; I tried to help him."

"You couldn't have done anything," Brian said as he crossed his arms. "Alex was a puppet to The Operator. He was just doing his job."

"His job?" Tim looked up at Brian.

"Come on," Brian jerked his head towards the door. "I've got something to show you."

Tim got out of bed and stood on shaky legs. He followed Brian to the door, but flinched when Brian opened it. Screams and yells came from outside the room. He looked from Brian to the hallway.

"You can't be serious," Tim said.  
Brian insisted Tim leave the room, so Tim edged his way out the door. He looked left and right before he stepped out into the deserted hallway. Brian left the room, and closed the door behind him. He led Tim to the staircase, before he stopped him, and gestured for him to look over the banister.

Tim stared at Brian before he peered over the banister at the first landing. His breath caught in his throat.

Below them scarred and burned people battled each other as inhuman creatures attacked one another. Snarls, yells, screams, and curses filled the blood soaked air. Acid burned the back of Tim's throat as he watched the chaos. His fingers buried themselves into the ragged wood of the railing.

A black and red dog grabbed the leg of a little girl in a bloody, ripped, pink dress. She dissolved into mist as soon as the dog's jaws closed around her leg. A black and white clown laughed hysterically as he plucked the eyes out of a kid. He laughed harder as the kid stabbed him in the stomach before he tore out the kid's intestines. A girl with a clock masquerading as her eye spotted him, and threw a knife in his direction. Tim jerked back. The knife impaled itself in the wall.

"Tell Rodgers to get his ass down here!" The girl screamed at him. "I want to fuck!"

"What the hell?" Tim whispered to Brian.

"That's Clockwork," Brian said. "She and the guy we work with have a thing going on. They hate each others' guts, but sleep with one another practically every night."

Tim gaped at Brian.

"Go to sleep!" A male voice screeched.

Tim whipped around. A teenage boy with a Cheshire grin ran up the stairs at them. His black hair flew behind him. He slashed at the air with a crusty, blood, stained knife.

Tim stared at the boy. 'That boy–he's not just grinning,' Tim thought to himself. 'He carved lines into his cheeks to make his smile bigger.'

He backed up. His eyes darted from Brian to the boy. 'Should he run or fight?'

The choice was taken from him. As the boy neared the second landing, he collapsed, and rolled back down the stairs.

"What happened?" Tim asked.

"Our Master stops all the bastards on the first floor from coming up here," Brian said.

"Jeff!" A stitched up teenager rushed over to the collapsed boy. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the boy, Jeff, growled.

"Good," the stitched up boy sighed, then he wrapped his hands around Jeff's neck.

"I'm in Hell," Tim whimpered as he watched the older boy choke the younger one.

"No, you're alive," Brian said. "In fact, you can never die."

"What are you talking about?" Tim asked.

"Those boys down there," Brian pointed at them. "Are from 1995."

"What?" Tim looked at the two boys. "Those are teenagers. They're younger than I am."

'Are you fucking, kidding me?'Tim thought as he ran his hand through his hair.

"They died in 1995," Brian said. "Jeff, the guy being strangled, was driven insane by another creature like The Operator. That creature controlled some teenage boys who attacked Jeff and his brother Liu. The creature exasperated Jeff's anger, he lost it, and attacked them. Liu took the blame and was arrested. Jeff was attacked by the teenagers later on and burned alive. Liu got out, Jeff went home after being hospitalized, the creature pushed Jeff over the edge, and Jeff carved a smile in his face before killing his family."

"Then who's the guy fighting him?" Tim asked.

"His brother, Liu," Brian said. "Jeff stabbed him to death, but before he died he wished for revenge. The creature heard him and granted him a chance. It kept him alive until the hospital could stitch him together. Once he woke up, the creature influenced him. He killed the nurse for slandering Jeff. Now Liu battles himself daily. Part of him wishes to protect Jeff, and the other part wants to kill him. If you don't see him trying to kill Jeff then you'll see him trying to kill himself."

"Trying?"

"He'll be brought back. He can't die. None of us can," Brian said.

"What does this have to do with me? With you? Alex?" Tim asked.

"Everything," Brian said.

Tim shook his head. This was too much. He placed his hands on his hips and paced back to the room he woke up in. He rubbed his face as Brian closed the door behind them. The noise stopped. Tim sat down on the bed. He curled in on himself. The walls closed in.

'This can't be happening.'

"Explain," Tim demanded.

"Alex was a servant of The Operator," Brain said. He sat down next to Tim. "The Operator is a servant to something bigger and badder. Alex from the get go had to recruit others, and he did so by killing those The Operator stalked. See, The Operator messes with your mind, he can't do anything to you, physically, until you're dead."

"Yeah," Tim said. "I kinda already know that."

Brian winced. "Right. You've been on The Operator's list for a while."

"I was getting better," Tim said. He tightened his hold on his legs.

"Yeah, but The Operator doesn't stop," Brian said. "So he made the plan for Alex to throw out the tapes, increased Troy's curiosity, and the rest is history."

"So why are we here?" Tim asked.

'There's no escape.'

"To serve," Brian said. "I woke up here like you did. Except I woke up to a twitchy guy called Toby and in a different room."

"How did you get here?" Tim asked.

"Once a person dies, The Operator can touch them," Brian said. "I don't know why. Something about our auras, I guess."

"So Alex, he's here," Tim said. He looked from Brian to the door. "What about Jay?"

"They're not here," Brian said. "Alex died there at the school. He was just an expendable puppet, and Jay was deemed too weak."

"Weak?" Tim spat. "Jay wasn't weak."

After spending so much time with Jay, weak was the last thing Tim would call him. Annoying, yes, difficult, yes, but weak? Never.

"He was in the eyes of The Operator," Brian said.

"Then why am I here?" Tim asked. He stood up and faced Brian. "I hadn't seen–what did you call it–The Operator for years. I was getting better. I had a home, a job, a wife! I even had a dog for fuck's sake!"

Tim ran his hands through his hair. He paced back and forth. The wooden floor, filled with worm holes, snapped with every step he took. His eyes darted around the gray walls. He wished there was a _fucking_ window in this room, so he could jump out of it and run away from all of this. Back to his wife, back to his home, back to his _life_.

"You did well," Brian said. The bed wheezed as he stood up. "You avoided The Operator, but now it's time to play your role."

"My role?" Tim said. He stopped, turned to Brian, and backed up. "No, no way, I don't know what role you're talking about, but I'm not doing a damn thing."

"You don't have a choice," Brian said. "If you don't fall in line, you'll end up on the first floor where you'll have to fight for your life day and night. Trust me, we may come back each time we 'die' but it still sucks."

"I was getting better," Tim muttered. He slumped in on himself. He had lost everything he had worked so hard for.

'I'm trapped.'

Brian pulled a familiar mask out of his hoodie pocket. "There's more than one way to get better."

Tim's hands shook as he took the porcelain white mask from Brian's hand. His stomach rolled as that awful face stared back at him. Empty eyes surrounded by black circles and black lips on a white mask; the symbol of lost memories and lost chances.

"You won't have blackouts anymore," Brian said. "You'll be in full control. You'll have a roof over your head, a job, and anything else you may want. Think about it. You won't have to run anymore. No more pills, no more sleepless nights, no more fear, no more worry."

"What would I have to do?" Tim asked.

Brian shifted from one foot to the other. He avoided Tim's eyes. "Nothing you haven't done before."

"What would I have to do, Brian?" Tim asked. He narrowed his eyes at the other male.

"You'd have to break in and enter homes, kill people, torture others," Brian said. "You'll become numb to it after a while. The Master helps with that. The other side of you that he helped create will embrace it and enjoy it, besides that, you can live your life normal."

"Normal?" Tim whispered.

"Well, yeah," Brian said. "I mean, you won't get to get married and you'll have to fake your death a few times or change your identity, but you can go to college, movies, parks. You'll have freedom."

"Normal?" Tim laughed. "Right, except for the fact I'll be a fucking _monster_!"

He threw the mask on the ground.

"Why the hell would I give in to what I've been running from for years just when I was getting better?" Tim yelled. "What's stopping me from leaving this place, right now?"

"The Operator can touch you now," Brian said. "He'll bring you back, and the Master will punish you. Whatever hell you think you've been through is nothing compared to what he'll do to you."

"You keep talking about this Master guy," Tim said. "Who is it?"

"He's name is Slenderman," Brian said. "And he controls everything around here."

Tim scoffed. "So what? I leave and get sent back here only to be punished like a misbehaving child?"

"You think you're the only one who'd be in trouble?" Brian asked. "I stuck my neck out for you. Slenderman thought you would be too unruly, and he wanted to put you on the first floor. If it wasn't for me, you would be on the first floor fighting it out just like everyone else. Do you know what happens to those on the first floor?"

"No," Tim whispered. He stared down at the mask. He wanted to step on it, to crush it until only dust remained, but part of him held him back. That part welded his foot to the floor.

"They're stuck here until Slenderman sends them out, and he only sends them out to kill," Brian said. "They might have a day or two out there, but they have no conscious thought. They're completely out of their minds, and they're treated like animals. Slenderman locks them up until he needs them. At least as a direct servant of Slenderman you'll get out of here for months on end, you'll have conscious thought at all times, and you'll have the freedom to do what you want as long as the mission gets done."

"Great," Tim said as he dropped down on the bed. "I'll have guilt ridden dreams about killing and torturing others."

"Actually, you won't," Brian said. "The part of you that The Observer stimulated, the part that caused you to have blackouts and to wake up in the forest wearing that mask, _that part_ will take over. You'll enjoy what you do, and you won't feel a bit of guilt."

"So I really will be a monster," Tim muttered. He stared down at his hands. Already, he could see blood stains on them.

"No more than the rest of us," Brian said.

Tim ignored him. He tried to think of a way out of all of this; then his mind filled with static, it became hard to breathe, and an invisible claw tried its hardest to rip his heart from his chest. Tim curled up with his hands over his ears overwhelmed.

"Our Master is calling," Brian said.

Tim squinted up at him. Brian pulled out a black ski mask with red eyes and a red frown from his pocket. He slipped it on before he pulled up his hood. He marched over to the door, but before he left, he turned to Tim.

"I know this isn't ideal," Brian said. "But there is more than one way to get better."

Tim stared after him before he turned his gaze to the mask he had thrown on the floor. The pain in his chest and head increased every minute he sat there, until finally, he got up and grabbed his mask. As soon as he slipped it on, the pain eased into a dull throb. The invisible hand stopped trying to rip his heart out of his chest; instead it pulled him down the hall after Brian, but it wasn't so bad. Maybe Brian was right. There was more than one way to get better.

The End.

Reviews are appreciated. If you have a suggestion in how I can get better, I'd be glad to hear it.


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